


Taste

by LittleKnownArtist



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Blood, Blood Kink, Bloody Kisses, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Charlie and al work something out, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, It's just Al being Al tho, Love Bites, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Non-Sexual Strangulation, Projecting author, Sex Repulsed Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Tentacles, Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), charlastor - Freeform, sexual asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleKnownArtist/pseuds/LittleKnownArtist
Summary: So the sobriety celebration didn't go as planned. Charlie is already cranky and drunk and Al is being his good old a-hole self. She's mad at him but she kinda also wants to do him? How did that happen?
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 208





	1. A Deal

"You had better slow down, Charlie," Alastor said, tone derisive, "I've known far too many dames who couldn't hold their liquor, and you've been nursing quite a few of these," he finished, picking up her glass.

"I've half a mind to cut you off before you do anything you'd regret."

Charlie gave him a glare, snatching her glass away and pounding it back. She slammed the glass back to the table, speaking the moment she had swallowed.

"Didn't you live during prohibition?" She asked, a thin mocking tone of her own.

He simply smirked wider, rocking back on his heels. He seemed to be in a playful mood. He'd had a couple drinks during the fiasco as well. Charlie kept her full attention on him, not exactly waiting for a response, but in her pitiful way to establish herself as a demon who Alastor would not back down. It was a game they played, the borderline dangerous banter and posturing. After a beat, he tucked his hands behind his back, and took a pointed look around the party hall. Charlie watched his gaze--she knew exactly what he was looking over.

"My dear, the party is long over, the entertainment donefor, and after quite the night of * _fun_ * I'd say just about anyone is due for a good blink to repair themselves, wouldn't you say?" Again, he was mocking the botched sobriety celebration; the tables overturned, the wallpaper scuffed, the whiskey and wine stains across the tablecloths.

"At least we got the fires put out right away." Her voice was strong to start, but Charlie ended with a sigh.

"Yes, yes. A small victory," he waved his hand at the mess of the hall, which Nifty had yet to tidy up. "And you do have to count those, or else this entire charade would be a miserable affair." He laughed heartily when Charlie's browns knit in a deep scowl at him. Her blatent anger at his jibe was hilarious. Her face only became hotter with his mockery.

"I'm off to bed myself, see that you don't beat yourself up for tonight's foul-up. It was interesting to watch." He turned on his heel to leave. The sound of the falling chair was his only warning before he made to avoid her ireous grasp.

Except.

He didn't.

If he was surprised by Charlie halting his flit out of her way, it didn't show on his face. The front of Alastor's coat held in her fist, she dragged him down to her height. She glared at his grinning face, red eye to red eye, nose nearly against nose.

"Sometimes I really can't stand you, Al," she spat.

"But dear," he chuckled, "we're standing right now."

Again, one could rarely be sure of The Radio Demon's true emotions while he wore that steadfast grin, but one couldn't say he expected the next moment, either. Was he surprised at the press of black lips and white fangs against his own? A miniscule widening of his eyes may be a tell, however brief.

Moments ticked by and the odd pair were sat against a lounge couch. A gloved hand gripped the demoness's chin to tear her away from the mouth beneath hers. She was already breathing heavily.

"My my my. This again, Charlie? You're well aware that--"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't like to be touched. You do like this, though." With that, she bit down on her own lip, razor-edged fangs sliding through her skin and red welling up against her white teeth, her white skin. She watched the other demon's eyes. He couldn't hide his nature from her. He couldn't hide the way his pupils dilated and his eyes widened, practically begging for a taste. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him, and it wasn't the first time he'd tasted blood.

"Isn't. That. Right?" She pressed her lips back to his, feeling his tongue come to collect the blood smeared across them. The taste of iron and salt between them was lapped away quickly, the blood of a disgraced angel within her swiftly sealing her wounds. He bit again, no doubt wanting more, more. She bit her own tongue, so that he would seek out that taste in her mouth, deepening the depraved kiss. Her horns butted against now extended antlers every so often.

Tongue and teeth and breath pressed against one another, and Charlie began to run her hands down his shoulders, down his chest. His chest...what sort of figure was he hiding behind his thick coat and dress shirt? Clavicle, pectoral, ribs...abdominals. She undid the first button of his coat.

"What are you doing?" He interrupted the bloody kiss and her exploration with a hand pushing her away by the jaw, thumb hooked in her mouth. His breathing came just quicker than normal. Static seemed to mix more with his voice than before. Charlie pulled away from his hand.

"What do you think?" She asked, voice breathless. "I'm trying to get you naked."

"Why?"

She blinked.

"Why?" She repeated his question. It hadn't been mocking, or knowing, or thoughtful. It was just there. A simple, curious question.

"What do you mean, ' _why_ '? You...you are the whole reason Vaggie and I broke it off. I thought--"

"Are you really that broken? You seem friendly enough to me."

"We...are still friends...but..." she shook her head. She pried apart the second button on his coat, but his hands stilled hers, gripping around them firmly.

"Al, come on. Don't play with me, not now."

"Mmn...no," he said, an amused note returning to his voice, "This isn't going to continue."

Charlie shot him a puzzled look.

"Wha..?"

"I have no interest in that sort of carnal desire. You have to know that by now, don't you?"

"What?"

"You're a faulty record, aren't you?"

Charlie sat back on his lap. She knit her brows.

"Maybe that's so. But you enjoy the thrill of carnage, gore, violence and--" she bit her lip again, "you * _love_ * this." She watched his eyes track the line of red that trailed down her chin, sullying the white of her shirt as it met her collar. His Adam's apple--hah!--moving as he swallowed thickly. He probably wanted more than just her blood. She had read up on him. He'd tasted the flesh of his own, and he likely wanted to taste her meat as well--but he was smarter than that. It wouldn't do for Alastor to permanently damage her body. The wrath of her parents was more than enough to keep them in power for all these millennia. He should know there were those with more power than himself who had been erased by the formerly angelic power of her father.

He still wanted it though.

"Would you like to cut a deal?" His eyes flicked back up to hers. She was serious. He rolled his eyes. He released her hands and she immediately went to the last button of his coat, fanning it open.

"Hmmm...what do you think, dear?"

"I think that with a little--" she unbuttoned his pants "--physical stimulus, anything is possible."

"You sound so sure of yourself. I'll have you know, it never appealed to me in life, and it doesn't now."

Charlie yanked his shirt up to untuck it. She didn't care much for his prattle right now. She tugged her own bowtie loose and off, forwent all but the top button of her shirt, peeling it off over her head.

"Nothing to do with you, though. You're still a proper belle if I ever did see one."

She was startled by his hand on her face again. He touched her cheek before seeming to think on it. He brought his hand back to his mouth, licking a bit of blood from his glove. Her toes curled, watching him remove the glove with his teeth. Her breathing was getting heavy again, swaying slightly on his lap. There was just something about a person taking their gloves off in that manner that did something to her. Some stange level of eroticism was within that gesture.

And by the look in his gaze, he knew it. Alastor wasn't ignorant. He just wasn't interested in sex.

That hand was at her chin again, smearing the blood and drawing her closer. This time he was at her throat, licking a hot trail up, following the line of blood. She moaned softly into his hair.

"Oh?" Alastor said, a dark smirk evident in his tone, "is this a sensative place for you?" Charlie shut her eyes tight, cheeks burning. She busied her hands with his own bowtie, before moving on to the buttons of his shirt. Her own mouth moved to his shoulder, once she had the skin available to her.

"Don't play with me." She sunk her own teeth into the greyish tan skin. Two could certainly play at this.

Shivers ran up and down her spine at the sound of his own soft gasp. The sound was so pure and unplanned, she felt a little smug about it. She bit again, remembering that she, too, had the dark nature of a demon. She lapped at the blood--rich and metalic--as Alastor's hands began to roam her back. He was counting the vertebrae. He'd mentioned to her how he wondered how similar or dissimilar she was to a human. He still had that intrigue into human anatomy, muscle meat, organ meat...

Her hands pushed under his shirt and...She had to see for herself. His muscle felt toned and lean under her palms. Yet, her fingertips found strange...oh...

She saw now. He had died in a rather violent manner, some retained the scars from their deaths even as sinners in Hell. He definitely did. There were so many of them. Had he really been conscious for the entire thing? It didn't matter anymore. Just under his skin, his chest and stomach were...

Really nice.

"What did you expect, Charlie?" Al was knowingly smirking at her.

"Al, shut up." She tugged on his shirt.

"Interesting that the princess of Hell is so intent on--"

"For fuck's sake, please just shut up." She crushed her lips back against his. He hummed in amusement, resting his hands on her hips and allowing her to remove his shirt and press into his lips harshly.

* * *

Partially inspired by this comic

https://twitter.com/Alfa_Lyr/status/1200169032340643844?s=19


	2. Discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good. It's good. But only one of them feels this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the pov shifts aren't too jarring.
> 
> Rating and tag change fore this chapter.

Charlie leans her weight to one side, gently laying Alastor across the sofa beside her, his head at the armrest. She sat to the side to push her bottoms off, kicking them under the couch. She returns her attention to the tall deer demon, his body lean, but sinewy and strong.

She unclasped his belt, yanking it out of the loops before tearing open the fly of his pants. Her mouth is watering as she pushes down the fabric, revealing more skin to her gaze. She feels along the soft skin of his length, watching with delight as he reflexively shifts his hips beneath her. He's soft in her hand, only just hard enough for the pink head to peek past the foreskin. She strokes down to expose more and she can begin to feel it pulsing. She swallows thickly, she wants this already.

She begins to stroke in earnest, setting her free hand on Alastor's belly. His muscles are coiled tightly just beneath his scarred greyish skin, and she strokes down, dipping her fingers into every soft slope, his hipbones, his navel. The fur extending down through his pubis was soft, something like a hellhound's. It felt good to run her hand through. Her second hand joined her first in working him up, curling under his testes and rolling them in her grasp. He was watching her, his expression unreadable except for the flush of his skin and the squinting of his eyes when she squeezed on him lightly.

He hasn't said a word since she began stoking him, but his eyes are boring into hers when she meets his gaze, and she can feel the twitching in her hand.

"Al," she chuckles as she begins to crawl up his body, "you're unusually quiet."

He shrugs.

"Not every moment requires a speech, my dear." Something in his voice is different, lower, strained. He's enjoying this, isn't he? He doesn't want her to know how much, is that it? She grinds against his cock, up and down, up and down, as she begins to trail wet kisses along his collarbone. She feels his hands just ghosting over her back before he grips into her hair. He tugs gently, but she focuses on teasing the dark areola in her sharp-toothed mouth. Just her tongue and lips, just the soft parts of her mouth. Just the soft parts of her mouth as she grinds the soft, wet part of her body against him. Everything is so soft.

Her body is hot and she decides they've both had enough teasing as she sits back on her knees and grips onto his cock. He's nice and slick with her body's own show of anticipation as she lines herself up. She holds the back of the sofa for balance as she sinks slowly down onto his cock. The burn of the stretch is expected. It's been a long time since she's had something more than a slim toy inside her, especially without additional lubrication. It feels amazing. He's warm, and she swears she can feel his pulse. Alastor's hips cant and she hears his breathing catch. She smiles and locks eyes with him once she's fully seated.

She's almost startled by what she sees in his eyes.

His facade cracks, ever so slightly. He looks confused, and dare she say he looks almost scared. His smile is still ever present but his brow furrows and she sees him cringe when she leans forward, shifting the angle of where their bodies were connected. It dawns on her alcohol addled brain what the reality of the situation is. The Radio Demon had never once had a partner in Hell. There were snide remarks that he thought he was above everyone and that was the reason he didn't so much as have a one night stand. Since she'd met him formally, she'd suspected his "not interested" meant exactly that. Sex didn't interest him. As such, Charlie realized, he probably never had sex before.

So here she was, both of them tipsy, her of top of him, giving him his first sexual experience. She was taking his virginity on a wine-stained couch in a filthy hotel common area. Not her greatest decision. Guilt crashed down on her as his smile stretched into a near-grimace and his eyes lowered to their point of connection.

"Alastor," she patted his chest, "you want to stop?" His eyes flicked back up to hers. "You look uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed--"

His eyes flashed, and Charlie recognized the dials at their centers before she was forced flush against his chest. He rolled them, putting Charlie beneath his body, extracting his cock as he sat up. She thought he had taken the out. That he was overwhelmed and uncomfortable, and had taken up her offer to stop. She couldn't blame him, as she was easily settling into the idea that this man was asexual. Then her assumptions ceased, along with her breath.

He was on top of her. He was straddling her hips. His clawed hands were wrapped around her throat. His eyes were wide as he pressed his weight onto her neck. Her body jolted, an attempt to cough but only a thin wheeze escaped. Her pulse was racing and even then she could feel him slowly squeezing tighter and tighter. His nose crinkled as his lips stretched further into a sneer, showcasing his sharp teeth and black animal-like gums.

What was he _doing?!_

What was she doing? She was Lucifer's daughter! If she wanted, she could physically overpower him. She just had to call on her angelic blood. That's all it would take. But her thinking was muddled between the alcohol, the sex, and the circulation being cut off. Her ears were starting to ring as she heard it.

"This deal of yours--" Alastor murmured, features smoothing into something more like his usual stretched grin, "it sounds good to me."

He sunk his teeth into her shoulder, drawing blood and sucking at the wound for a full three seconds before ripping his mouth away, dribbling red blood on her belly.

"You let me do as I please with you, and you can do the same with me-- _within reason_ of course."

Charlie couldn't comprehend the statement at first, but then he loosened his grip, removing the pressure from her white throat entirely. She coughed successfully, gulping down air with a euphoric high and thanking the pentigram that it was over. She could get into sexual strangulation, but a warning would be nice! She undoubtedly had bruises beginning to bloom across her skin.

As her head cleared, she looked back up at Alastor, who had taken a moment to breathe as well. For all his panting, one might think he'd just been strangled instead. Yet, as his eyes met hers, she realized that the strangulation wasn't actually sexual for him. It was just an act of aggression to him for which he had no remorse. It was something he needed to ground himself again, to cope with whatever emotional discomfort he was experiencing moments ago. Any trace of fear, confusion, or even anger was gone from his expression. That ever present amused smile was firmly back in place. Charlie swallowed thickly, only able to blink. Whatever had taken hold of him was buried back deep within him, but Charlie couldn't help the residual fear in her veins.

Alastor rearranged their legs, a hand on her hip lifting her lower body. His other hand gripped his cock, rubbing the head against her entrance slowly.

"I've gone a little soft, you don't mind that, do you?"

Charlie shook her head, and Alastor slowly eased himself back into her body. It felt a little painful now, the unexpectedness of his aggression setting her body back a ways. The stretch was good though. Was she just going to forget his display of animal aggression just now? No, but she knew neither one of them was in the mood to discuss what just happened, so she lidded her eyes and calmed her body. She allowed herself to feel him now. He ground against her slowly, making sure his body was ready, she suspected.

"This is what you want?" He asked, chuckling.

"A little harder would be nice," Charlie smirks--more timidly than she would like--stretching her legs.

Alastor rolled his eyes. He set one hand beside her waist, gripped her hip tighter, and he did just that. Charlie gasped, wrapping her arms around the back of Al's neck. She bit her lip to quiet the squeaks she was making. It didn't matter that all hotel occupants were at least two floors above them, she still didn't wish for this to be a noisy affair. Really, they should have gone back to his room, but hindsight is 20/20.

"I want that," Al said, bending down to capture her lips. He was surprisingly gentle this time, sucking at her bottom lip and even kissing the corner of her mouth. He nibbled on her hip, and she giggled, even as he nicked the skin it was what could almost--almost be considered accidental. He must have liked her laugh, as he bucked into her harder than he had before. His claws were drawing red streaks down her hip, and the spark of pain felt blissful. Charlie's nails were digging into his back, leaving red crescents of their own. Al set a foot on the floor for leverage as he titled their hips to a different angle.

His grunts were quiet, but they were punctuated by sounds of radio static, like an antique microphone being tapped with a finger. Static aside, she found herself getting something out of the soft sounds. Less controlled than his silvery tongued words, charming and deceitful monologues, it was beautiful. He was panting against her mouth, and he tasted like scotch, despite her wondering where he'd gotten it. Her hips were writhing, her legs hooking themselves over his back, one sometimes over the back of the sofa. She couldn't hold still--not that she wanted to. She was close and she loosened one hand from where it was digging into his shoulderblade to reach between their bodies. Al broke apart from her lips, looking between them as she rubbed little circles into her clit, but she just shut her eyes. She was close, she really was.

"Please, Al, I, don't stop please."

...

"Yes, princess," he breathed, sinking his teeth into her collarbone as he flattened both palms to either side of her thin ribcage. She was whimpering so softly. Sweat was dripping down his back, and Al shivered once, before shifting his pace to shorter, quicker strokes.

It seemed that was all that his business partner needed. Her legs squeezed tightly on him, as did her insides as she began to shudder and hold her mouth open in a silent scream, only the sound of her breath reaching his ears. Her face contorted like that was unflattering. In the same way her face when she was red-eyed and furious was delightful, but would have unnerved him a century ago. This was what she wanted though. He slowed his movements as her trembling lessened. When her legs unwrapped from his waist, he stilled completely.

There was her pretty face again, plump bitten lips curled into a soft smile, smooth features, shiny black eyes staring up at him. She giggled again in her euphoric state and it was, truly, something adorable. He couldn't help himself. He pressed his lips against hers sweetly before sitting up and disentangling their bodies. She'd made a right mess of her legs and the cushion below. He felt sticky sweat cooling on his back and he inwardly cringed. He was still hard and coated in her fluids when he tucked his cock back inside his pants. He was still unnerved by how his body, specifically there, had responded to her touch. It felt unnatural. It was nothing at all like when he'd begun to experiment with his own touch as a boy. And the _**mess**_. Sticky, slimy...it was different when it was just his own body. The mess wasn't nearly as...expansive. It was a disgusting affair, but it wasn't anything a shower and the laundry couldn't fix.

She was sticky, too, as she silently insisted on pulling his side against hers. If she were clothed, or even just dry, he might have enjoyed her cuddling. Actually...maybe he did, even with the moisture on their skin. She was asleep in minutes, the combination of alcohol and sex fogging her pretty little head. How stupid was she, being held in the arms of the Radio Demon as she was in such a vulnerable state. He pushed some damp strands of hair from her face, idly peering down at her, wondering if she actually trusted him. It was a stupid thing to do, trusting a dealmaker.

* * *

...

* * *

Charlie awoke to a pain in her shoulder. She frowned and ignored it for a full second before remembering how she'd gotten the injury there. She craned her neck to see just the edge of one of the many healing bitemarks. The skin had regrown but was still pink in the last stages of the healing process. The wounds must have been a lot deeper than she thought. Al really had...

Al!

She raised up on her elbows to survey her surroundings and look for the demon in question. She was on a bed, naked under the covers, and she remembered explicitly picking out this color comforter, so she was in one of the hotel rooms. Al had taken her back to his room? Except. She'd seen the inside of his room briefly. He'd had some of the gaudiest decorations, and the hideous decor was no where im sight. Ah, but there was the light from the bathroom, and through the open door she spotted the deer demon standing before the mirror, hair dripping wet and wearing striped pajamas with a towel around his neck. He was...scratching at his antlers? His eyes were closed and he was really digging at one, like a child scratching at a insect bite. Occupied as he was, he could answer her questions.

"Al?" She called. He immediately yanked his hand away as she suspected he would. He spun and trotted up to her almost urgently, dragging the chair up beside the bed and plopping down into it.

"Yes?" He asked as he started to towel off his hair, ears and antlers.

"What time is it?"

"Just about ten past two, you didn't sleep long, I assure you."

Charlie tapped her thumb against her lip, pondering the next questions she should ask...that agression...

"We aren't in your room," she mumbled, to try to disguise the silence that would otherwise be created by trying to form that more important question.

"Why of course not!" His voice was staticky and muffled beneath the towel, "I really shouldn't say this to a lady, but we both--" he pulled the towel off his head, " **reaked** of our...activities, and I would rather that scent not linger in my own room." Dammit. Charlie hadn't even thought about the smell. She bit her lip as Al continued on.

"There were plenty of spare rooms in this empty hotel, however. It only makes sense to have a little more privacy, even after such an illicit display out in the open area." His gaze shifted to the side, and Charlie saw that he had a glass and a bottle of liquor set on the side table. He lifted the bottle, and tipped it back to his lips rather than pouring it into a glass like a civilized person.

That couldn't be good.

"Alastor," she said calmly, allowing him time to wipe his mouth, "what we did tonight...did you enjoy it?"

Alastor didn't meet her eyes, he just grinned towards the curtains.

"Well, my dear, that really depends on which part of the night you're referring to?" His voice lilted to a question at the last moment. Charlie gathered the covers to her chest, her lacy bra marred by droplets of their blood. She scooted to the edge of the bed.

"Did you enjoy...any of it? At all?"

His gaze finally drifted towards her face as a hand reached for her. She held perfectly still for him as he cupped her jaw and rubbed his thumb along her pink cheeks. Charlie closed her eyes and he tipped her chin to press his lips against hers. The kiss was controlled but far from chaste. The taste of alcohol was even stronger on his lips now. He pulled away, his smile changed, less uncanny.

"Some of that was entertaining, I suppose," he squeezed her cheek before tapping the tip of her nose with his index finger. He then drug then hand through his wet hair, snagging on a tangle or two.

"What about the..." she didn't want to ask, "...the sex?" His face didn't change one bit. Charlie had a moment to think before she realized something. She hadn't felt him--he hadn't--!

"Oh my gosh," she jerked, "you--you never had a--you never got to--you didn't cum!" Her face flushed. Alastor raised a brow, seeming amused by her sputtering antics.

"Hmm. I don't believe I ever could in that situation." He blinked.

"What are? I'm so sorry! I really just sort of passed out on you."

He waved a hand.

"If you really want to hear what I thought of our little illicit rendezvous, I'll give you a hint." He rolled one of his striped sleeves to the elbow. What was he doing?

"My skin's nearly finished regrowing by now."

The skin of his arm was raw and pinkish grey, the top layer of skin shiny and new, not yet used to the chafe of clothing, the heat of the air. She saw the old scars reappearing too, a duller pink than the rest of the skin. Alastor had...scrubbed off the top layer of his skin while he was in the shower.

"Don't make such a face, dove," he sighed, rolling his sleeve back down.

"This has nothing to do with you directly. I would have done the same with any other person. Those activities...they don't appeal to be in the slightest."

"Alastor, I'm sorry...I shouldn't..."

His hands were on the side of her face tilting her eyes up to his.

"Smile," he said, "your pretty little face is just made for one!" He kissed her again, much more forcefully, teeth immediately nicking her mouth, drawing blood, which he hungrily kissed away. Charlie didn't mean to groan, but the sound was there, nevertheless. He just said he was grossed out by sex, this was not the time for her to get worked up. But delicious the sting of pain and the warmth of his lips, his palms--he indicated that he still liked kissing, right?

He laughed as he pulled away.

"Why are you fretting? I'd never leave you in the lurch quite like that, Charlie." Her brow furrowed, finding a strange warmth seeming to wrap around her leg. The sensation travelled further up her calf, and she puzzled over the sensation and Alastor's words for a moment before she had the idea to lift the covers off herself.

"If you want to make an addendum to your deal, I'd be perfectly willing to enter into the new agreement."

Thick black tendrils swept higher up her legs, beginning unseen over the side of the bed. They paused at the center of her porcelain white thighs, massaging them in wide circles. She spotted Alastor's hand on his own thigh, swirling his index finger around in the fabric of his pajama bottoms.

Charlie wasn't a teenager, her libido shouldn't be this easily fired up. Yet, the thought of what he was offering...how he was offering something to satisfy her idiotic lubido without having her actually touch him was a little intriguing. The thought of what those black tendrils were capable of, what they could do to her...in the best and worst ways...

Well...

"Do you want to try?"

"Yeah." She'd be embarrassed about how quickly she responded later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I read that Al is willing to touch but not be touched, I wanted to write something like this, because I'm sort of the same? Basically, Al is fine with touching Charlie, even sexually. But what he's not cool with anyone touching HIS genitals. Physically it feels good, but at the same time, it feels really, really bad and horrible and gross. I didn't get to it here, but Al is willing to pleasure Charlie. He's fine with it. He'll use his hands, his mouth, whatever.
> 
> What causes a Visceral and Bad and Gross Feeling is if Charlie does the same to him. Charlie could be a pillow princess and he's chill giving her what she likes. Ambivalent. He just doesn't want her hands below his waist, or her mouth below his collarbone. And p-in-v penetration? No! He's definitely not keen on penetration. 
> 
> Sex is still gross, the smell, the fluids, the faces [I can't explain how much if a turn off ahego faces are!!!] but it's more bearable if nobody is touching his body.
> 
> I always project onto my ace or grey-ace characters.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this on my phone between 6 and 8 AM because I was coming down from a panic attack because SOME IDIOT forgot to take her meds the morning before.
> 
> Ace Al is Ace. I also kinda tried to get across a mild touch aversion buuut I think I mostly tossed it aside for the sake of a make out session. Drunk Charlie is sort of pushy but Al kinda digs it.
> 
> Also I just found out Al apparently has a nice stomach and upper body? Because he was lean but also hunted and ate a lot of meat according to th HH crew. Well now. This fun fact isn't gonna encourage any of my art at all. Nope. No shirtless Alastor ever.


End file.
